One of our favorite PaxLovers, Matt Peters, has created a space to share with bereaved parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and loved ones who require no officious title. Please read on to learn more about a this beautiful soul – who claims to be ‘a nobody’. Matt, you are far, far from a nobody.
“….Jizo is, as best as I can draw a comparison to my old Catholic upbringing, is like a patron saint. In some Buddhist cultures, Jizo is a protector of travelers. In others, he is the protector of the souls of children who have died. In some circles, Jizo travels to the realm of the dead, and collects the souls of children, protecting them under his red cloak, and takes them wherever the child believes he or she is most needed. That smell in the air that reminds you of your lost child? Some believe that is Jizo, bringing your child to you because your baby knows you need to feel their presence right at that moment.
One morning, as I meditated, I kept mulling over this little statue in my mind. Inspired by a Zen Master named Jan, I looked out to an area at the side of my house that I call “The Grotto” or sometimes “The Bird Garden”.
It has trees that bend and canopy around some bird feeders, and an unused smokehouse where I bring animals that have been roughed up, but not injured to rest and heal, safe from the elements. It is an area of LIFE – full, abundant life.
And then, I was introduced to Jizo, and I saw room for even more life.
I found a way to keep a promise I made to a little boy that I never met. His name is Paxton. I met his parents after cancer took him from this life. The idea came to me when I remembered times a cousin of mine, Christine, was visiting, and how much she loved and looked out for her little brother. An accident took her from this world.
With these two little souls on my mind and in my heart, Jizo has found a place in this garden. This place of life.
But moreover, it is a place that I open to the parents and families who have lost children. Families who receive the love and assistance from the Paxton Andrews Foundation can come and sit. Pray if they need to pray, weep if they need to weep, or curse and get angry… whatever it is they need.
In the end, I offer a place away from ‘the familiar’ that might still hold sorrow of memories, or the shared grief of the people who knew the child who has passed away. A place where we can sit, and you can tell me all of the wonderful things about someone I didn’t get the chance to meet. Tell me how amazing your child is – share their light.
I will never tell you things will be all right. I won’t attempt to “fix” anything. I will tell you I believe you.
When everything is such a whirlwind that you don’t know whether to drop dead or go blind? I believe you.
When you don’t know how you’re going to draw your next breath because your next exhale is going to be a scream? I believe you.
When you are terrified because you realized you might have gone half a day without a sobbing breakdown? I believe you.
You struggle, every day, with happiness? I believe you.
This isn’t therapy. I’m not trained for that. I’m no doctor. I’m a nobody.
But I have a small place where I find peace. And I want you to know that, even as a stranger, I promise to never forget your son or your daughter.
I reflect on some words my aunt said to me, which I believe are important for bereaved parents to hear:
Your child was here.
Your child was real.
Their life matters.
In time, I hope to provide Jizo statues for visitors to write names of their children on and place about the garden. And once a year, I will have a celebration for all of their lives.
Even if no one ever comes to the garden but me, it is still a promise kept.
My earlier invitation stands.”
